


I'm Giving Up, I'm Giving In

by cuddlepunk



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Dreams, Hotels, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Panic Attacks, Tours, dont worry it fails, heavily implied suicide at that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlepunk/pseuds/cuddlepunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purity and perfection run through your veins, virtue clinging to your every fiber. Nothing but corruption and and decay latch onto me. I’m the hellion to your angel, the punk to your pink. I don’t want to hurt you. Culminating, elegant fingertips and gentle, low-lidded eyes. That’s what you are. Untouchable and consummate, you’re rolling fleshy petals and honeyed, heavenly nectar. You’re comprised of delicately perfected, intricate pieces. I don’t want to hurt you, I really, really don’t. I’m so fucking sorry.</p>
<p>My caliginous eyes expand just after I recognize the words leaving my mouth. Trembling lips and misty minds, the inside of my skull just a christmas bulb filled with disorientation and perplexity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Giving Up, I'm Giving In

**Author's Note:**

> this is fiction i sadly dont own fall out boy i totally didnt write this about em 
> 
> trigger warning everything just dont even read this i hate myself
> 
> i totally didnt edit this or proofread it at all whatsoever

Purity and perfection run through your veins, virtue clinging to your every fiber. Nothing but corruption and and decay latch onto me. I’m the hellion to your angel, the punk to your pink. I don’t want to hurt you. Culminating, elegant fingertips and gentle, low-lidded eyes. That’s what you are. Untouchable and consummate, you’re rolling fleshy petals and honeyed, heavenly nectar. You’re comprised of delicately perfected, intricate pieces. I don’t want to hurt you, I really, really don’t. I’m so fucking sorry.

Threats and crises line my form, I’m an old abandoned building, ready to collapse. Danger signs surround my disintegrating, brick walls. Keep out! Poison! Unsafe! I have collapsing ceilings and creaking floorboards, I’ll tear you apart. Dust and ashes collect in my corners, allergens just itching to claw out your penetrable lungs. Rot and rust collect in my thinned out capillaries, skin ready to burst with maggots and grime. I’m grafitti and the act of breaking down, I’m giving up and giving in. 

Don’t you see? If you were to enter my doors, you’d get decimated. Your crystalline wings shredded by my barbed wire, clipped by cinder blocks. My corrosion and disrepair ready to comminute all of your branches, each part my favorite. You need to listen to me and get away. I care too much about you to let this happen. I don’t want to see you in ruin.

If I could, I’d hide you away. I’d set you up with a nest of soft things and friends, I want to satisfy your every need. Placate you in every way possible, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. I’ll give it all up, surrender each layer of my skin down to the marrow of my bones. A snow globe persay, a terrarium of stabilized environments, the safest one can get. I want it all, just so I can give it to you. Alright? Take care of yourself, get out of here. Get out of here.

Get off me, it’s not safe! Leave! I can’t let you -

“I can’t let you do this to yourself, Trick!” 

My caliginous eyes expand just after I recognize the words leaving my mouth. Trembling lips and misty minds, the inside of my skull just a christmas bulb filled with disorientation and perplexity. I’m met with bland hotel walls and stale, overwashed comforters. This isn’t home, this is unfamiliarity and uninvestigated sites. You aren’t here. Where are you?

A shorthand text send from my stuttering fingertips to your bedside stand, an I need you, unneeded notifications sent too late at night. I’m sorry for waking you. Where’s your room? I can’t make it, Trick, I need you now. I’m cold sweat and frosting ink stains. You never did like the stacks of journals I keep around. Give it up, give it in. I need to let go, that’s what you said. I just need to let go. 

Release the pens and paper, throw away the songs. Delete every last file, erase every contact. Block each user, remove connections and clothes, reason and wisdom. Acquittance of love and life, giving up and giving in. I’m giving up and giving in. 

I’m giving up and giving in. I’m sitting on warped tile floors, I’m watching tears collect in the ridges between slabs of linoleum. I’m blurring bathroom sinks with towels reeking of bleach and the last client’s sweat. I’m reducing.

It’s actually kind of ridiculous how much I love you, and sometimes I even think you might love me back. What with your bursting open doors, carrying me away to your room. I’m melting, half lying on you, letting you drag me wherever we’re headed. It’s pretty ha ha funny, the kind of ha ha funny where no one is actually laughing but we can all sense the humor. I guess that’s why I trust you. You can sense the humor in my hidden blades, find the smile behind panic attacks. Or maybe that’s just my imagination. 

Either way, I’m buried in your arms, my forehead fitting perfectly into your neck. You’re whispering in my ear, frantic and worried, I’m giving up and giving in. You’re cautious and calculating, walk on my eggshells. 

You and your kind words, your curves, your open arms. I should turn to you instead of the blade, just focus on you, I trust you, I trust you. I’m giving up, I’m giving in. Gentle open palms and double open hearts, the feeling of your fingertips on the back of my neck. Slip my cold hands into the pockets of your hoodie, you're always warm. You make me think there's nothing to hide from, you'll save me from the cold. You do.

I disregard responsibilities in exchange for the feeling of my head resting against your chest. We’ll make it. We always do. I know you won’t sleep tonight, watching over my sleeping form and brushing fingers over the curve of my back. Make sure I don’t jump out the window. God, I love you. Yeah, it’ll be fine.


End file.
